


Azure And Cream, What A Dream

by Pink_and_Velvet



Series: The Colours Of Our Lives [2]
Category: Duran Duran, Duran Duran (Music Videos)
Genre: Boats and Ships, Colours, Confessions, Drummer’s need love too, Exploring feelings, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friendship/Love, He’s in love okay, Love Confessions, Love On The Water, M/M, Midnight, Music Videos - Freeform, Revelations, Rio, Yachts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:07:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24390307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pink_and_Velvet/pseuds/Pink_and_Velvet
Summary: Azure has some things to get off of his chest and thankfully Cream is right there, helping him unleash his palette.
Relationships: John Taylor/Roger Taylor (Duran Duran), Simon Le Bon/Roger Taylor (Duran Duran)
Series: The Colours Of Our Lives [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1761394
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Azure And Scarlet, Let’s Make Violet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23493634) by [Pink_and_Velvet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pink_and_Velvet/pseuds/Pink_and_Velvet). 



> Inspired somewhat by @summerhurleys request for some Roger and Simon, Rio era.
> 
> I always figured I would add more to this little developing relationship, throwing Simon into the mix has been lots of fun. I’ve really been on a kick for them both, recently. ❤️
> 
> _Also, the italics are taken from my first fic Azure And Scarlet - As Roger reminisces about his time on the island. ___

_1982_

_Antigua_

“Are you sure we should be out here? What’ll happen if they catch us Char— woah!”

Roger was silenced by Simon, wrapping his huge body around Roger’s small but in no means less strong frame. Simon buried the drummer’s nose in his armpit, laughing, as Roger began to squirm.

“You wanted to talk Rog, so talk!

He kicked Simon in the shin, both men cackling hysterically before Simon broke away defeated.

“Alright, _alright!_ ” Simon yanked Roger over again. “I still can’t believe you even agreed to all this.”

The two men were stood before an impressive, majestic vessel; backed by the moonlight. She was bobbing softly on the water, calling to them, waving them across. 

“C’mon then, chop chop! We haven’t got all night!” Simon egged him on, now stood before the yacht.

“Yeah we do.”

“Now look who’s changed his tune!” Simon sniggered. Roger pouted.

Like a true gentleman, Simon held out a hand and beckoned Roger up the ladder. He did not complain as he had a face full of drummer butt, shimmying and flexing. He grabbed it, pinching Roger lightly; was met by a fond “shove off!” and another kick from the man before him.

Simon acted wounded, yelling quietly. They didn’t need to awaken the whole island.

“What did you want to tell me, Rog?”

Standing proud atop of the deck, Roger headed straight for the bars. He leant over, light wind tussling his perfectly imperfect quiff. He smiled broadly, not wanting to hide it, skin coated in a dazzling silver sheen as the moonlight beat down around him. He was staring out far and wide, painting the scene of the island alive in his mind; palm trees swaying and the sea crashing onto the shore under the summer sun.

“Froggie?”

In his mind the island was alight with blaring oranges, serene pastel pinks and blues but right here; right now, when he opened his eyes: he shed a tear at the beauty that was the midnight sky. The dazzling stars, constellations he pieced together and the glisten of the moon. It was directly above him, above them, central to the endless sky.

“Froggie Barnacle, this is _Planet Earth_. Calling _Planet Earth!_ ”

_Is there Anyone Out There? Anyone outside?_

Roger stiffened momentarily, before leaning into the warm embrace at his back. Simon’s huge body blanketed his, wrapping his hands around Roger’s middle. Cheeky, chuckling softly, Simon placed his head into the groove of Roger’s neck and shoulder.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Simon muttered, plush lips brushing lightly against Roger’s exposed neck.

Roger nodded in approval, not taking his eyes off of the tantalising silver moon before them. 

“Absolutely. I’ve never seen the moon like this before.” He replied, gaze fixed on the sight before them.

Without word, clutching tight to Roger, Simon leant out a hand. Roger was immediately on the beat, one hand holding to the bar, the other bringing itself forward to meet Simon. Together they ‘cupped’ the moon and held it; as though they really could touch it; really hold onto that light and savour the precious beams that painted the shore.

“Shall we take her for a spin, then you can tell me on the water?” Simon giggled, tapping on the metal bar that Roger was holding. Then, he placed a tender hand on top of Roger’s in a soft and sweet moment of friendship.

“Oh I, Charlie, I’m not sure we—”

“—C’mon Rog!” Simon chuckled, pulling him away from the edge. “You know you want this as much as I do!”

Together they waltzed down the deck, Simon casually reminding Roger that he was surprised enough the drummer had made the journey out this far with him in the first place. That, much like Roger, he too was being called by the sea; with the dire need to ride those waves, guiding the beautiful yacht into the night.   
  


They were kindred spirits, Simon and Roger, with strong bonds and vibes that were interlinking so: especially above the water.

“Alright, anchor’s away!” Roger winked, with Simon already half hanging from the ropes. “How did you get up there so fast?!”

Simon was now a blurred silver blob, that didn’t lose his sparkle amongst the endless sails. Granted there wasn’t much wind but there was still a healthy amount to steer the yacht far and wide. With Roger’s deft hand at the wheel, the wood aching for his touch, together they guided her out of the port with ease. The waves lapped her smooth sides as her engine purred. Simon was howling as Roger spun them round, thankfully he didn’t fall from the mast and chose to clamber down with surprising grace, that the drummer didn’t think he would ever get used to seeing from him.

Within moments, Simon was at his back, yelling and pointing at which way to go. Roger’s sea legs prevailed, instructing the power of the yacht through the elegant waves, lapping at the keel, losing themselves in the dead of night.

Basking in the silver glow, Roger couldn’t believe Simon had waited so long before he started singing. It was Lonely In Your Nightmare, of course, the drummer immediately picked up on his tune. With a small smile, now content on having found their spot, they bobbed on the water, Roger left the wheel and headed back to the hand rail. Clutching tight to the bar, he threw his head back up and again beamed over the moonlight that doused his figure silver.

“Because you’re so _Lonely In Your Nightmare_ , Rog, let me in.” Simon sidled up at his side. “There’s heat beneath your winter, Froggie, let _me_ in.”

Engulfing a shaky breath, Roger stabled his grip on the rails; wondering just when he had thought he would fall overboard if he didn’t grip the side tight.

“Rog, what is it? You’re _killing_ me here.” Simon joked, nudging him slightly. 

Roger sighed. Simon pouted.

“Rog, hey, what is it? You’re starting to scare me.” He changed his tune, there was an unavoidable sense of worry. Of danger, almost.

Roger let Simon guide him back to the middle of the boat, taking a seat atop of the deck. Roger was on a high step, so he was a little above eye level. He gulped again, audibly, before lacing his fingers together.

“Froggie please, what’s wrong? I can’t have the one sane band member out of it, I just can’t.”

“Will you, Simon, sing to me again?”

In the soft glow, Simon’s smile was illuminated, his eyes cast sapphire and sparkling. He nodded, although curious.

“Please tread gently on the ground. When all around you, well not you personally Rog, Earth turns to fire.”

Roger’s lips parted.

“Only get a second chance when, danger’s on the wind.” Simon sang, perfectly unstarched, raw and uncut.

“What is it with that damn song?” 

“Because you’re _Lonely In Your Nightmare,_ let me in.”

He giggled, throwing his hands up in defeat. Chuckling, in disbelief almost, Roger let out another huff. He wasn’t annoyed, but most definitely in disbelief.

“What about that _damn_ song?”

Enough was enough, he’d made Charlie wait through his ice age and it was about time Roger melted his strong exterior and let him in. If Roger himself could let the story, the overwhelming feelings and emotion stop swirling about his heavy head for a single minute and say— 

“I think I’m… I’m falling for John.”

Roger didn’t chance a glance at the singer, he instead chose to focus on the bobbing of the sea; the glistening reflection of the moonlight on the tranquil waves. They helped to settle him, somewhat.

A deft hand, smooth and supportive, on his shoulder broke him out of his daze.

“I’m sorry, what?” Simon’s eyes were wide and curious, a small smile was forming on his plush lips. “You’re insane.”

Roger nodded, turning himself bodily so now they were sat knee to knee; toe to toe.

“He’s insane!”

“He,” the drummer paused, gathering his words, “he was with me. Right here, on this yacht, the other evening. Well, actually, _he_ caught _me_.”

“ _Caught_ you?”

It went without saying that Roger had craved that precious moment of isolation and had been overjoyed, elated, to have found himself anything but alone.

_I was just checking her out, is all._

_That’s not a very Froggie thing to say, at all._

“I don’t know what happened but somehow he, and I, we just… uh, yeah.”

_Can’t I have a moment, alone?_

  
  
No, Roger.

_Why not?_

“We kissed, right here, by this very mast.” Roger’s voice was soft, fond.

Simon perked up, opening his mouth and closing it. Then again. Then, Roger figured, he took his cue to continue. With a giggle, he quickly scrambled his thoughts and tried to deliver the next blow.

It had been on his mind ever since, nearly a week ago. At first he had thought that the bassist had been drinking but realised immediately, upon seeing those bright eyes dimmed with tears; that no. That was John. All of that was _John_.

“He came to my cabin, in the middle of the night. Singing, of all things.” Roger recalled with a little laugh, now focusing on Simon’s steely blue gaze.

“Oh god, that must’ve been torture!”

“Not as bad as you’d think.” Roger smiled, matching that of the singer. 

_The lights of hope were fading quickly, he felt his own spark begin to flicker. Waver, beneath his skin._

_“Because I’m,” he engulfed a shaky breath, more than embarrassed for his timid effort, “Lonely In My Nightmare, please,” he gulped, shaking his head, “let me in.”_

“I don’t know what it is about that track Charlie but he, somehow, he melted me. Melted my ice age, right there, right on the spot.”

_He bought a hand back up to his face, shuffling forward to face the dreaded door a final time._

_He knocked once. Twice. Three times with force, finding his beat._

_“And there’s barren in your garden, let me in.” He rasped, tears brimming in his eyes at the mere thought of being turned away. “There’s heat beneath your- my winter.”_

“He was crying. I’m still not too sure why but he was crying.” 

_Rog please, let me in._

“He was so frightened that I would turn him away. That I would shut him out after the kiss. I didn’t tell you, Charlie, I left the yacht wearing his blazer.”

“You cheeky sod, you knew he’d have to come looking for it!” Simon teased, quick fingers prodding at Roger’s muscular forearm. 

Roger beamed at that, he didn’t hide that beam.

“I just didn’t think he would come looking after midnight.”

_John smiled, tears threatening to stain his perfect little face. He bared his teeth, cheekbones and dimples, as he watched that hand. The ‘come in’ motion, dropping low and swooping to the side._

_The heat beneath John’s own winter, let himself in._

“And _then_ what happened?” 


	2. Chapter 2

Simon spread himself out, lying on his front and kicking up his heels. Roger couldn’t help but laugh, that was such a front man move. His eyes were wide, wide with supposed innocence. As though he really was trying to fool his drummer into thinking that he really was that naïve. Roger flipped him off, before deciding to do the same.

_Swinging his gaze back down, he caught sight of it and couldn’t help but chuckle. John was trembling now, tears rolling down. He didn’t know why, or when but that didn’t matter._

_John’s eyes took in his own scarlet blazer, lovingly draped over the back of the small sofa. They raked over it, sucking in every detail: how every crease seemed to have been perfectly ironed out._

“He noticed the suit, my plan worked.” There was a little bout of triumph in that, Roger couldn’t deny.

“And _then_ what happened?!” Simon prompted, waggling his eyebrows and shuffling even closer to Roger. “I want all the details, _all_ of them. Tongues, hickeys, scratches, banging on the headboard… tell me he’s got a smaller cock than me, tell me that Rog!” 

“Charlie!!” 

  
“It’s true, isn’t it?”

Roger took a moment. Simon beamed with pride.  
  


“And yup he does and you _still_ chose him, what am I going to do with you Froggie?” The tone was light, teasing, with wild gestures that voiced Simon’s ‘pain.’

_John craned his neck down, suddenly no longer shy. He searched for those parted lips, hands trailing down naked torso to settle on cut hips. John himself was leaning into it, contorting his lanky frame to meet the small and muscular one before him. Their lips danced a slow kiss, full of rhythm and rhyme, swing and sway, the perfectly pitch._

Roger was reliving every tender moment as he told his story. Every caress, every shy movement and how gradually weary digits began to wonder and find confidence in where to land. 

“Fear of flying?”

Roger answered immediately, in kind, “no, not me.” He winked.

“These Taylors can really find their own way, huh?”

Roger thanked the moonlight for covering his blush. Although he couldn’t quite hide the bodily shiver.

“He told me that I’m beautiful, eventually. The wuss was still crying.” A pause, the savoured memory of Roger kissing away those stray tears came to the forefront of the drummer’s mind, “one thing lead to another and… well, I think you’re perfectly capable off working that out for yourse— _oh_.”

The single raised blonde eyebrow demanded to know more. Roger flushed darker. 

_John craned his neck upwards, sneaking desperate kiss after kiss, letting his fingertips run up and down that powerful body. He caught Roger’s shoulders, held on tight to them, before guiding him down to meet John’s own quivering lips again._

“Oh Charlie, please, we don’t need to get into—”

“—JT, top or bottom?”

Roger’s head snapped up so fast he could’ve sworn he heard a small crack. He fumbled over a couple words, not knowing quite where to look and, of course, Simon had his answer.

“I’ve had a bet going with Ands on that for a while. Now I’m miffed he’s won my fifty.” 

“You,” Roger giggled, “really bet on John being on _top?_ You that stupid?”

The dumb struck look on Simon’s face said it all.

_John was moaning under him, twisting his body upwards and grinding slowly into the drummer’s lustful heat._

“Andy better treat you to a drink with my fifty quid, I tell you.”

He watched, eyes wide and blown dark, as Roger shimmied down his body, as Roger’s sensual lips licked and sucked their way lower. And lower. Torturously lower, igniting flames in his wake.

A beat of silence, after the laughs began to fade.

“You’re picturing him under me now aren’t you?”

“God, _yes!_ I’m not mature enough to handle these images.” Simon threw a hand over his eyes, cackling. “Save me, Save me from my thoughts Roger!”

_John was finally ready to let Roger, his Roger, tame him._

  
With a roll of eyes, “you asked, you ass! You deal with the images.” Simon was about to butt in when, “just know we sang together. _Sing, Sing Blue Silver._ ”

_John was finally ready to let Roger open him up, to love him._

Smiling, the assholish-ness bleeding from the singer’s veins, “it really must’ve been incredible huh? Bedding little Johnny?”

“He’s not _that_ little, believe me.”

“How would you know? If JT’s on the bottom… _oh_. Oh, I see.”

Roger flushed impossibly darker, again thanking the moonlight for covering him in his wake.

“You’re picturing me under him now, aren’t you?”

Simon nodded, profusely.

“You’re going to salivate like a dog to that image now, aren’t you?”

Simon again nodded, profusely.

“You’re sick.”

“Nope, that’d be _you_ , PT Barnacle,” Simon slapped him on the arm, “little love sick Taylors… how am I gonna keep you from making babies all the time?” 

“Jeez Charlie!” Shaking his head, cursing himself, Roger only laughed harder.

Together they found their beat, rode out their high, their crescendo. The wild crashing of cymbals and the smash of the snare voiced how they reached their intense peak, shivering and jolting, before fighting to come down, fighting to beat their pulses back to a rhythm that they could handle.

“So you’re not mad at us or anything?”

“No, why would I be?” Simon sounded confused, expression matching the wave of self doubt that had suddenly crashed into the yacht. “Does anyone else know?”

“Not yet.”

Roger was relieved, more than truly, that he had the front man’s support. He knew that Simon cared deeply for John, that Simon would want the best for him. And as he told the drummer over and over, Roger was indeed the way for him to go. Taylor Telepathy; at it’s finest.

“Does Tigger know that you’re speaking to me about it?”

Roger startled at that, brows furrowing. “Trust you to be the voice of reason, now.”

“He doesn’t?! Wouldn’t you both have decided on—”

“—Figured I would’ve told Andy first but here we are. I know I can trust you and your big gob… right?” He added after a beat, nervous.

Simon’s smile said it all.

“Does he _love_ you?” 

The question came so suddenly, like quick fire, that Roger would be an idiot not to notice the sudden pang in his chest. How quick the bullet hit, straight through his heart and snapping it in two.

  
“I know it’s early days but Roger, look at me,” Roger obliged, “you can’t act as though you never saw the signs. He’s always gaping at you, like he’s lost about twenty IQ points. He talks about you and touches you non stop. He can be a mouthy bitch, a randy bitch, but when you’re there... the two of you making music together…”

Simon’s words grew jumbled in his head, Roger tried hard to focus but found that he couldn’t. He only managed to bring himself back into the conversation when Simon asked him again, even if there was a sneaking suspicion lurking that the singer already answered his own question.

It took Roger a couple of tries, he had doubts. He was sure that Simon would, that the whole band would. If this went tits-up, it wouldn’t just be the shattered Taylors hearts that they would have to try patch up. A split was inevitable, not just between the rhythm section.

With a cough, a sudden tearful gaze; Roger’s eyes crept back over to Simon who was lying patiently, barely breathing just like him.

“I… I think so? I think that he, that we, can really make this work.”

“He’s clingy.”

“Yeah, and?”

“He’s time consuming.”

“Yeah, and?”

“He’s a real pain in the ass, drunk and sober.”

Roger pretended there wasn’t a knife rearranging his guts. “Yeah, Charlie, and?”

“He’ll _never_ let you go. Be careful what you wish for.”

And then came the floodgates. Roger’s tears crashed onto Simon’s supportive shore, his falling onto Simon’s sand that was his ever darkening tan skin. Still lying in the floor, the two band mates bundled up tight as Roger wept lightly pouring out his heart. He’d have to remember this night; having Simon so tame and quiet. Having Simon listen, be so accepting and beginning to understand how this would eventually drastically change their dynamic.

“You can’t _Hold Back The Rain_ with him, neither will he with you.” Simon pointed out, voice unusually stern. “Do _you_ love _him?_ ”

Blinking through the tears, he nodded, nodded over and over: letting himself fall into Simon’s strong grip in the hopes of finding some steadiness in his breathing.

“Shall I take you to John’s cabin then, tonight?”

There was a hint of something naughty in those words, Roger waved him off. It must’ve been well past 3AM now. There was no need to awaken the whole island.

  
“Shall I expect to see you there first thing, anyways?!”

“No Charlie, piss off!”

  
“Would you two be open to a little three way action?” Simon sounded coy, sniggering.

Roger visibly blanked, unsure how he would hide the appeal in such a lewd...

He coughed. 

The questions of sexuality, preferences, a sudden 180 of character, would come later. For now, both men knew that they needed to turn in. They upped from the deck, taking turns to man the wheel and the sails; as Simon guided Roger home, the way they were both sure Roger would be guiding John for a long time to come.

**Author's Note:**

> Here are a couple cute moodboards I made for this little series, I’m having fun with these beautiful guys!
> 
> https://madamepinkvelvet.tumblr.com/post/619197006566588416/azure-and-cream-what-a-dream


End file.
